


Across the Stars

by jeangreywind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Game of Thrones AU, Star Wars AU, jedi! jon, our way is the jedi way, so it's pretty cool, this is basically game of thrones with jedi, we're starks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeangreywind/pseuds/jeangreywind
Summary: "The Jedi defended Westeros for thousands of years, reaching far back to the age of heroes." Aemon declared, the fire dancing across his features,  "The first lightsaber was forged during the Battle for the Dawn.  They say Azor Ahai plunged his sword into Nissa Nissa’s heart, and when he pulled the blade out, it burned hotter than the Sun and could cut through ice with a single swing."(or, game of thrones with the jedi and the force)





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fanfiction, please be gentle.  
> all you need to know is this is a jonsa fic, sansa stark is a badass, jon snow is a jedi, and the jedi and the force are the old ways.  
> this is a sample chapter! this is a small part of a longer chapter i have written, and i'm posting to see if anyone would actually read this.

She woke at dawn; as she always did. Sansa rolled out of the bed, yawning as she glided over to her mirror. She made eye contact with her reflection as she brushed out her dark copper ringlets and worked them into a simple braid. She considered herself for a moment. _I’ve grown into a woman_ , she realized. She had lost the softness in her cheeks, and her blue eyes had the confidence of an adult. She slipped a navy robe over her nightdress and slipped out of the door.  
The castle was warm as she made her way through the winding grey stone walls of Winterfell, the hot water flowing through the walls keeping it comfortable even in the snow. A light summer snowfall dusted the ground near the windows. She needed to hurry if she was to return in time for her maids to get her prepared for the king’s arrival. She pulled her robe closer as she walked into the Godswood. I’ll need to start wearing my furs, she mused, winter really is coming.  
She knelt beneath the heart tree, beside the quiet waters of the pond. The weirwood stretched high above the forest, sickly white branches and leaves the color of blood standing apart from the muted greens and browns of the other trees. When she was a girl, the heart tree had scared her. The frightening colors had unsettled her of course, but the true horror had been the face. The face had been carved ages ago, of course, but it was still striking, with blood red sap seeping in the cuts on the bone white of the bark. Fear of the heart tree itself wasn’t what had kept her out of the godswood though.  
In truth, the old religion had always seemed so boring to Sansa. She loved the smell of burning candles in the sept of her mother’s faith, the sparkling stained glass in the windows, the prayers and hymns sent to the Gods above. The old way paled in comparison. There were no rituals, no decorations. The temple of the old way was the forest, with the heart tree at its center. There was no songs to sing. They didn’t believe in the Mother, giving mercy to her children, or the Father’s judgement. They simply believed in an energy they called the force, holding together the world and all of its people. Followers of the old way sat, alone, on the forest ground for their worship, trying to clear their emotion and get closer to the energy in all things. It had never appealed to her. Why would she want to sit on the dirty ground in silence when she could burn candles and sing? As she matured, she had started to understand it, though. Though she still prefered the Faith of the Seven, there was a peace in the godswood, a silence she could never find in her mother’s sept. Sansa gazed over the softly circling water of the pond, watching the red weirwood leaves twirling. For a moment, she was in total peace. For a moment.  
“Sansa!” A male voice uttered, filled with surprise. Sansa scrambled up, brushing the dirt and leaves off her gown. She scolded herself for not paying attention. _What an improper position for a lady to be found in_ , she thought, _sitting on the forest floor in a nightdress, dazed off! What would Septa Mordane think?_ She stood and faced the intruder. _Thank Gods it’s not someone important_.  
Her bastard cousin, Jon Snow, stood by the heart tree. _Jon is dressed properly, and he’s a man and a bastard too._ She felt shame rising in her cheeks. _I’m such a fool, I never should’ve thought it proper to leave my rooms half dressed!_ She opens her mouth to try to save the shred of pride she had left at the same time as he started to speak.  
“I’m sorry if I startled you, my lady” he said, earnestly. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here so early, especially not you”. She closed her mouth, trying to think of a response.  
“Why wouldn’t you expect to see me here? I am a Stark, after all.” The words unlike you hung between them like a mist. “The Starks follow the Old Ways.” Sansa knows she’s being cruel, but she’s embarrassed, and the biting words just seem to fall out of her mouth.  
Jon’s brow knits. He’s mad at her, clearly. _Big shock_. She’s being a bit mean, yes, but he and Arya are always looking for a reason to hate her. They think they’re so much better than Sansa because they act Northern. Nevermind that Sansa was just as Northern as they were, and the North was frozen and bland compared to the culture in the South.  
“You always seemed to prefer the Southron ways”, he says in that cocky way of his. She rolls her eyes and walks past him. _I don’t have time to argue with Jon right now._ Sansa tried to keep her head down as she walked briskly through Winterfell. She needed to be back in her room, getting prepared for her day. She still had lessons today, which she was looking forward to, as she loved learning about nearly everything, excluding figures. She had to have her hair braided and a lovely gown on, though. The King and his court were to arrive sometime today, and she had to be ready to meet them. She had never been more excited in her life. Of all of the castle’s children, she was always the one most interested in southern culture. The castles were all beautiful and colorful and full of life, unlike her own home, which was made of grey stones and was dusted in snow even in the summer. The women all wore lovely and light gowns that were more like works of art then the thick robes custom in the North, and they wore their hair in intricate braids instead of leaving it down. The best part of the South was the songs, though. Southern stories all had heroes, fighting for love and good, and they always won. Sansa prefered these to the Northern stories, full of death and gloom. She had always been optimistic and believed that anyone could make a change if they tried hard enough. Her optimism drew her to the South, with its beauty and the Seven gods who listened to the faithful and helped them, instead of the North, where utilitarianism ran rampant and whose gods only listened and never responded.


End file.
